


Vegetable Soup

by MissFenixx



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 1960s, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Short, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22871305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissFenixx/pseuds/MissFenixx
Summary: Remember when Paul got really sick with some stomach virus that time in 1963?Well, John takes care of him. And in doing so, Paul realizes for the first time that, maybe, friendship is not all John sees when he looks at him.[Changed title from "That Time Paul Got Sick"]
Relationships: John Lennon & Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Kudos: 55





	Vegetable Soup

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short nice fic :)  
> 

John kept tapping his feet on the ground, annoyed at himself for not having noticed earlier. And at Paul for not having told him earlier, for letting it get that far. But again, he couldn't really get mad at Paul. Not now anyway, worried sick as he was, tapping his feet nervously on the hospital floor next to Paul's bed.

He really hadn't shown many signs of being sick the previous days, despite certain uncomfortability and silence that he mostly masked through jokes, and so John hadn't thought too much of it. Now he identified that behavior as obvious stomach pains, and he wanted to kick himself for not paying enough attention beforehand. That day though, Paul had arrived to lunch with a natural smile on his face, seemingly better, and John had been able to let go of that knot of worry he had been absent-mindedly carrying in his stomach for those days, widely corresponding his friend's smile.

The interview had been little after lunch, and all of his worry came rushing down when he took a look at Paul right before it started. He was slightly hunched over, looking down with a pained expression on his face. When he talked, his voice fading and his eyes falling to the ground, he sounded restrained, like he was trying not to puke. And _of course_ he was trying not to puke, the poor lad. He got a few glances at him in between jokes and some real answers to the interviewer's questions, and the lad just seemed to get paler and paler, every minute closer to either spilling his guts all over them or passing the fuck out. When the boy seemed to have completely blocked out the outside world, breathing in in an attempt to control his gastric fluids, and absently shifted towards the wall behind us, John couldn't help but ask 'You alright?' 'Yeah' came the answer, almost a second too late, followed by giggles John mirrored, nervous. He stared at him a bit longer as Paul shifted towards Ringo, hiding behind his back to breathe, and questioned him with his eyes as soon as he turned back towards him. Paul just lifted his eyebrows, dismissing his behavior with a funny expression, and John laughed with him, worried sick.

The interview didn't last long. As soon as the guy left, John turned fully to his friend, frowning and grabbing him by the shoulder. The other two, who had also noticed something was off, surrounded him with worried frowns of their own. Paul looked just two seconds away from losing it.

'Mate, what's wrong? You need to puke?' Paul made a soft noise and swallowed, seemingly pushing back nausea 'God, yeah'.

They half dragged him towards the dressing room and then to the bathroom, all while Paul lifted his hand to press against his mouth. And oh, he puked. He left all of his insides in the toilet, and then some more. Afterwards, still pale, he laid for a few moments on the floor while John offered him a glass of water, drank it, and seemed a little better. He was still very pale and clammy, but after having puked he could move around and stuff. Or that's what he said. The boys almost believed him; that is, until he passed the fuck out.

Turns out getting Paul to eat an apple before the show wasn't Ringo's brightest idea and the lad ended up on his knees again, holding to the white tile for dear life, his body angry at the apple for daring enter its domains. And then, when he tried getting up to flush the toilet, he fainted in John's freaked out arms.

Since a passed out body does little good in the musical area, not the best at bass and such, they had to cancel the show and Brian immediatly got them to the hospital, putting Paul in a special individual room to avoid, you know, harassing. It was in that room where John's eyes were the first Paul saw when he woke up, destiling worry, and John's voice the first he heard, somehow impossibly similar to his mother's.

'How are you feeling?' sweetness and warmth radiated from John's words, while his hand lightly stroked his hair. Paul didn't have time to wonder where had John left his masculinity when the attack came full force and he almost hallucinated his mom in John's place 'Why didn't you tell us you were feeling sick? You almost gave me a heart attack, you idiot, passing out like that. Have you been feeling sick for long? You should have said something, it's ok to be sick, you know? It's not gonna weaken your masculinity or anything'

Paul weakly lifted his eyebrows, eyes still half closed.

'No, but this mom talk is making me wonder about yours' he joked, smiling tiredly. John, much to his surprise, blushed and fixed his eyes on the matress.

'You're my best friend, you idiot. You had me worried sick' he mumbled, frowning. Paul's heart warmed and he smiled, ignoring the growning pain on his head and stomach, reaching out to grab John's hand on the matress.

'And you're the best friend I could have. I admit I should have said something, but it just didn't seem like a big deal at the time. I just had a bit of nausea and dizziness: it didn't feel truly bad until the interview. I'm sorry, I didn't want to worry you'

John, pouting like a baby, stared into Paul's sincere eyes with a blush and a frown.

'Alright, well. You're gonna get better, now, though.' Paul smiled and hoped John didn't catch the pained expression that crossed his face for a second at the sudden outburst of pain in his stomach 'Yeah, I am, 'cuz you'll take care of me, yeah? You're the one sharing rooms with me after all'

'And if I weren't, you know I'd still be there, don't you? I got the mom virus'

But his smile was a little sad.

Paul was very sick and for a long time. Apparently, he had some kind of stomach virus that wouldn't let him keep anything down (except for John's excellent vegetable soup, which the lad was very proud of), and the boys, particularily John, took care of him. It was not too out of the ordinary, at first. They just happened to share rooms, so it wasn't weird when John was up in the early morning making breakfast for them both (he made soup really, changing to a sweet potato one or adding ingredients in hopes of moving onto more solid and nutritive elements, and then feeding himself with whatever were the leftovers from the cooking). He would then gently accomodate Paul's pillows behind him, looking casual and nonchalant about it, and turn on the TV right before dropping in the bed next to his friend to watch it together. After breakfast, Paul usually went paler and had to make an effort to keep it down, which often failed, and then John would be there afterwards to clean up and carry him back to bed, tea prepared and worried face unmasked. If not, John would most definetly brag about his cooking skills, and Paul would roll his eyes. Lunch would go very much the same and so would dinner, with slight varietions on the menu and slightly different results. TV and chatter were the only entertainers in the middle, until Paul's bath time came around.

There was a fine line between best friends and something more. There was a very fine line between worried best friend (as close as a friend could be to another) and worried lad in love. A close line that had been very carefully marked before and about which the boys didn't have to worry about, always careful to stay on their side. But it was during that sick period that Paul, from behind heavy eyelids and clammy skin, could see on which side John really stood. Could see, however, how well he tried to hide it, and knowing where it led, Paul followed his lead. But it bugged him, in the back of his mind, the knowledge of what couldn't be and that John had been swallowing through all those years without protest. The way his eyes clouded with worry, searching his for a report on his state. The way that lazy ass never forgot to cook his meals in time and tried so hard every time to make it better, more digestable. The way he never complained about it. How he never left him alone during that week, not once: he made it look so natural when he dropped next to him to watch TV but Paul could sense the worry. The way he helped him clean up the vomit from his mouth or clothes, and the way he helped him into the bath, and even cleaned his hair once. The way he always had fresh and warm clothes ready for him after he dried himself, and his sheets were changed and his pillow turned.

John was never like that. He wasn't tidy, he wasn't methodical, he was none of that. He just had a sick friend and turned into the best mom lad ever to exist.

And Paul suddenly couldn't not see it.

He took a while to get over the uncomfortability, the slight disgust homophobia tried to make him feel. But once that was gone, and once he laughed at the jokes John could not stop making during TV time, in an attempt to cheer him up, and once those eyes shone with such an intensity once he ate a full banana without puking it, his face stretching in a shit-eating smile, he found he couldn't feel anything but warmth towards the man. Such a pure feeling as love could never be anywhere near disgusting. Not when it made John so warm.

And as that warmth expanded in Paul's chest, he found he did love the man back. He wasn't sure if he was, too, on the other side of the line, or if his would never be more than a feeling of deep friendship, as he feared it was, but he loved the man. And right then and there, he thought while finishing his first full meal of the week, surrounded by smiling friends and a shining best friend, right then and there love was all that mattered. Of any kind.


End file.
